


Does the Carpet Match the Drapes?

by julesbby



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Custom Hawke, Dragon Age II Spoilers, F/M, Hawke & Varric Tethras Friendship, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Purple Hawke, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Hanged Man (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Varric Tethras' Nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesbby/pseuds/julesbby
Summary: Hawke needs a little help with something from Isabela one evening at the Hanged Man, but Isabela's got an eye for such things, and has noticed a few fleeting glances between Hawke and her best friend, Varric Tethras. And by "a few", she means they've basically been eyeballing each other for months now, if not more. Does Hawke have the courage to approach Varric, or will her possible feelings fall by the wayside?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains some minor Dragon Age II spoilers, and takes place after the completion of the main quest All That Remains. Also: I shamelessly wrote this because I believe there's not enough Hawke/Varric smut in the world, and no one can convince me he's not in love with her.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Isabela smirked, white teeth sparkling in the corner of her mouth. Hawke pinned her with a blank stare, face impassive.  
“Mother used to help me with it.”  
“Oh....Andraste’s ass, I’m sorry Hawke.” Isabela bit her lower lip, tilting her head to one side like a cat. “Although in all honesty, I meant the fact that you dye your hair.” Her dark hand reached out to stroke Hawke’s thick red locks. “It looks so natural.”  
“For what I pay to get this dye imported, it ought to.” Hawke blinked in momentary surprise. “You met Carver, and mother, and I’ve told you about Bethany. Why on earth did you think this was my natural hair color?”  
Isabela shrugged in that insolent manner of hers, complete with an eyeroll. “I thought perhaps your mother got a bit friendly with the milkman. You know what they say about redheads.”  
Varric piped up from his seated position, legs propped up on the table so he leaned back a little too far in his chair, “Hey I can help with that!”  
Hawke’s full lips pursed, one stout arm snaking out to grab him by the boot heel and dump him backward. The dwarf managed to flail about enough to land on his ass instead of his back. Hawk, smirking, slipped an arm through Isabela’s and cooed at him “But Varric darling, I need the roots done, not just the tips.” With a wink, she headed toward the upper rooms of the Hanged Man. “We’re using your bathroom!” Hawke tossed over her shoulder lazily.  
As they trudged up the creaky wooden steps, Hawke thought that would be the end of it, but Isabela spotted the blush that seemed to cover Hawke’s broad face whenever she talked to Varric these days. The pirate purred, nuzzling in the crook of Hawke’s neck and gripping her arm tighter. “What is that about, Serah Hawke?”  
Hawke snapped her teeth playfully at the pirate’s nose. “None of your business, Captain….Isabela. Say, what’s your last name?”  
“I don’t have one, don’t change the subject.”  
“Everyone has a last name! You didn’t spring from the waves, fully formed with ample enough bosoms for both of us. And maybe Merrill too.”  
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She closed the door to Varric’s private room, the nicest one at the Hanged Man. “And you’re avoiding this topic.” Isabela’s brown eyes widened. “Why, has the illustrious Hawke finally fallen for her Rogue Dwarf? And why does that sound so predatory?” She mused.  
“Isabela, please, try not to read too much into it. You know neither of us is into the emotional stuff.” Hawke unbound the top half of her hair, peering into the mirror at her undyed dark brown roots.  
Isabela, to her credit, was digging about in Hawke’s bag (pocketing a tuppence she found there out of habit) and pulling the dye ingredients out. As she arranged them by order on Varric’s table, she shrugged, stating “Whatever, it’s just a shame to see the pair of you skirt each other like nervous cats when you could be up here shagging.”  
Hawke whirled on her friend. She was removing her ear cuffs, though there was nothing to be done about the gold hoops she had welded into each lobe. “What the hell do you mean by that?”  
Isabela turned slowly, planting one fist on her hip in that oh-so-Isabela way. She looked like the proverbial cat in the cream. “Oh now I’ve got your attention I see.” Her expression was full of mischief. “If I weren’t so fond of the idea of you two finally dropping anchor in each other’s harbors, I might be jealous.” She and Hawke had been sleeping together off and on for something like four years now. The pirate seemed determined to draw out her information as long as possible, because she turned back to the table and began mixing the dye as per the apothecary’s notes.  
Hawke, who was a good eight inches shorter than Isabela, stood on tip to to rest the very tip of her chin on the pirate’s shoulder. “Come on now, you know I’m still part of your crew, anchored or not.”  
Isabela smirked, planting a kiss on the tip of Hawke’s nose. “Well, I do happen to know that the woman Varric was carrying the torch for got married last year. Aaaand I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”  
“With incredulity and amazement?”  
“Actually, sometimes yes. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how long it took him to get up from the table last week when we switched clothes!”  
Hawke thought back to the event. She might be quite a bit shorter than Isabela (actually only about two inches taller than Varric himself), but she quite amply filled out the other woman’s revealing preferred outfit. More than filled it out, through the hips anyway. She showed a good bit more pale ass in Isabela’s pantless tunic than the pirate herself did. Whereas Isabela made Hawke’s armor look strikingly elegant, too short in the legs or no.  
“I thought he was drunk!”  
“Well, he was a bit, but you don’t have quite the vantage point that I do, love. He was most definitely standing at half-mast, at least.” Isabela flapped her hands at Hawke. “Come now, undressed so we don’t get this blood-red stuff all over your lovely fur.”  
“I thought getting it on my fur was the whole point?”  
“Oh do shut it.”  
Hawke grinned broadly, her wide smile set off by sparkling blue eyes, but stripped down to her knickers obediently. Without her toughened leather breastplate, she was entirely naked from the waist up. Neither woman minded this overmuch.  
Though Isabela could easily reach Hawke’s entire head while standing, Hawke found it much more comfortable to perch on the edge of the claw-foot bathtub. The two sat in companionable silence for a while, before Isabela blurted out “Really though? Varric Tethras? The dwarf? I’ll admit Fenris is a bit Broody, and Anders is….well, insane. But both of them have been hot for you for years now. Hell, even Merrill would probably strip naked in the middle of the Alienage if you asked her to. None of them ever caught your eye?”  
Hawke heaved a heavy sigh. “I knew you wouldn’t let this go.” She stared at her reflection in the mirror Varric had mounted on the wall nearest the tub. “Fenris, in the beginning. But, I dunno, I just can’t joke with him the way I can with Varric. Not to mention the whole ‘Mages are the Absolute Worst’ thing.”  
Isabela made a little snarly face. “True enough. He and Anders should just fuck and get it over with. The way they both just mope constantly.”  
“Do you think Anders yells ‘Justice!’ when he comes, or would that be too on the nose?”  
“No more so than Fenris shouting ‘freedoooooom!’ I should think.”  
Both women burst into laughter, as Isabela ran gloved fingers through Hawke’s hair, making certain the dye was getting into the roots. Hawke’s face fell though, and Isabela stopped, a look of concern on her delicate features.  
“What is it love?”  
“Varric was always hung up on someone, I knew. But just because that someone got married doesn’t mean he’d be interested in moving on. Let alone with me.” She shrugged. “What’s the likelihood he’s even interested in human women anyway?”  
“Well, given the scarcity of surface dwarf women in Kirkwall, and the fact that a man like Varric is unlikely to wish to maintain celibacy for long, I’d say he would be open to the idea.” Isabela did not mention that she had already asked Varric about that. Not for herself, of course, but for research purposes.  
Hawke’s mouth quirked to one side, her eyes narrowing. “Uh huh. Suuuure. You certain you and Varric haven’t discussed this? Because I can definitely see that being a late-night Hanged Man taproom conversation.”  
Isabela’s musical laugh filled the small space. “Alright, you’ve got me there. Varric and I discuss many things late at night, downstairs.” She grinned. “Your roots are covered, do you want me to use what’s left on the rest of all this hair?”  
“Mmmm please. You know I like fingers in my hair.” Hawke grinned.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
The bad thing about her expensive, imported hair dye, Hawke decided, was how long it took for the blasted stuff to set. By the time she was ready to rinse, Hawke had had Isabela lend her a band for her breasts, and sent out for something to eat. Varric still hadn’t come up, though Isabela had reported that the bar was nearly empty. Hawke perched on the edge of the tub, glaring at her roots and willing them to soak up the dye faster.  
Isabela had long since gotten very bored and wandered off to make trouble, so Hawke sat by herself in Varric’s room. She tapped her bare toes impatiently, stomach rumbling and humming to herself. A rap at the door alerted her to the arrival of her food, and she leapt out of the tub, flinging open the door to behold...Varric himself, carrying two bags of food, and wearing a rather shocked expression. Hawke flushed red up to the roots of her falsely-gotten hair.  
“I uh, thought I’d deliver this myself, since the kid who dropped it off looked like he was about ready to fall over.” Varric’s smile was a little awkward as he shrugged those huge shoulders. “Ready for dinner?”  
Hawke, dressed in only a breast band and her underwear, grinned despite her discomfort. Varric stepped around her, his body uncomfortably close in the doorway. Her breath hitched a little, and for a split second, Varric paused, those gold eyes flicking up to meet hers. Then he sidled through the doorway at an accelerated rate. The bags of food clanked as he set them on the table, and the dwarf glanced inside.  
“Nevarran? Really? I had no idea you liked all that spicy, sour shit.”  
She stuck her tongue out at him, crossing the room to pull a ceramic pot from one of the bags. You were expected to return the dishes the next day, but it only happened about half the time. “Excuse you, the flavor combinations are what make life interesting.” She didn’t know if she meant the food or something more personal. “Ooh they sent a flask of that Nevarran sweet red I like.”  
Varric chuckled, plucking a bunch of grapes from the other bag, popping one into his wide mouth. Hawke tried not to stare at that perfectly solid jaw as he chewed and swallowed. “That’s because people know who you are now Re-wait…” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I can’t call you Red now that I know it’s fake! Ugh, way to ruin a perfectly good nickname.” He shook his head in disgust, sticking a finger into a spicy dip that was meant to be eaten with flatbread.  
Hawke slapped his hand away with a sharp tsk-ing sound. “Stop that.” She speared a piece of lamb marinated in spices and then slow-roasted with tomatoes. “Besides, I honestly don’t know why you’re surprised. Carver has dark hair, Bethany had dark hair which I know I told you, and mother has...had dark hair.” Hawke’s face fell. Despite keeping her chin up in public, Hawke was having a shit time of dealing with the murder of her only surviving parent.  
Varric stopped chewing mid-bite, setting the grapes on a plate and moving from where he stood next to the table to wrap one arm around Hawke’s waist. Her chin was quivering and tucked to her chest as she tried to keep breathing the same slightly-shuddery breaths. Varric slipped two fingers under that chin, and raised it to look at him. Hawke was by far the closest member of their party in height, and very nearly looked him in the eye. “Hey now,” he said softly. “You don’t have to keep the stiff upper lip around me, Blue.”  
She sniffled, despite herself, fighting to keep a tear from leaking from the corner of her eye and down her cheek. Meeting his gaze, she queried “Blue?”  
A calloused thumb brushed across each of her eyes, coming away glistening. “You don’t think I haven’t waxed eloquent about those baby blues, do you?”  
The statement was so sweet, so unexpected, that Hawke had no control over her body as she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Much to her relief, she found his lips as soft and warm as anticipated. And, more than she had hoped, they moved against hers with a sudden urgency. Thoughts of food forgotten, Hawke’s arm moved unbidden to the back of Varric’s neck, her whole body feeling alight. Had not the center of the blaze been located around her groin, she might have thought she’d spontaneously developed the ability to light herself on fire.  
Varric’s strong, warm hand against her back pulled her to him, even as the other reached up to cup her cheek gently. That second hand was their undoing, however, as he went to run it through her hair, dye forgotten. “Ah, shit.” He swore, breaking their kiss and examining his now-stained hand.  
Hawke laughed, despite herself. “I think it’s time to rinse anyway.” She stepped toward the bathroom, before glancing over her shoulder. “Give me a moment?”  
“Blue, I’ll give you all the time you need.” He grinned, reaching for the pitcher that sat in the basin nearby.  
Hawke slipped into the bathroom, suddenly not caring if her roots were sufficiently dyed. She rinsed the color from her hair down the drain, but didn’t forget to soap and condition it. Just because she was now wet as a marsh nug didn’t mean she’d forgotten how this process needed to go. It felt like forever, though had likely only been a few minutes, when she finally wrapped her hair up in a towel and gave herself one last glance in the mirror. Short, yes. Freckled, yes. But blessed with curves enough to be employed with the Blooming Rose, and absolutely hot for the dwarf that was just on the other side of this door.  
When she stepped out again, Varric was seated at his usual spot at the table, plate of food in hand, staring intently at nothing at all. He noted her reappearance, setting the plate down and getting to his feet. His expression was more serious than usual, and he began to speak. “Look, Hawke, if this is some sort of misplaced attraction for Blondie or Broody I-”  
“Shut up, Varric.” Hawke unwrapped the towel from its turban-like twist, giving it a good ruffle once more before tossing it to the side. The whole time, she stalked toward the dwarf, eyes never leaving his. He swallowed hard as she reached him. Stepping lightly to one side, Hawke sat on the stone table that was one of the main fixtures of Varric’s room. Gripping his open-chested tunic with both hands, the mage pulled him to her and began where they had left off. This time without fear or nerves.  
Her long nails raked through the hair on his chest even as her legs wrapped around the dwarf’s waist. With her seated on the table, she was actually shorter than him. Their mouths came together in a crush of tongues and lips, heavy breathing and roving fingers. As she hooked her feet together behind his low back, Hawke could feel the length of him, hard against the fire in her loins. She ground her hips against him, playfully, and Varric breathed into her mouth. “Ohhh Andraste’s ass, Kitten. You do know how to torture a dwarf don’t you?”  
His hands, which were as deft as those of any of the best thieves, made short work of the knot holding up her breast band. It fell to the side, and he pulled back, taking in her body with awe. “Maker...you imagine a thing so many times, and it’s still nowhere near the glory of the reality.”  
Hawke’s mouth quirked up at the corner and her trademark sarcasm came rolling off her tongue. “Really, Varric, you don’t need to bring quite so many deities into this. I’m pretty amazing but I’m not certain I qualify as a religious experience.”  
The dwarf grinned even as he lowered his head to her breast, clever tongue flicking against her engorged nipple. “Ohhh I’m not so sure about that, Kitten.” His mouth came down on that same nipple, and Hawke was left gasping, breathless.  
“Ohhh I don’t know any dwarven gods but if I did I’d be thanking them right now.” Her slim fingers curled into his hair, loosening its bonds as her legs wrapped still tighter around his waist. That oh-so-smart mouth of his was doing very, very smart things against her breast right now, even as his free hand cupped the other, thumb flicking over her teat to the tune of some unheard song.  
Hawke felt as if she could bear it no longer, yanking Varric’s head up by grasping his hair in both hands. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Varric, but I want you inside me, rather a lot.”  
He grinned at her, honey-gold eyes bright with mischief. “I have, in fact, noticed that Hawke.” His arm snaked low around her hips, and yanked her to the edge of the table. Her muscular legs were able to plant themselves on the wall on either side of Varric, whose rough fingers snaked down her torso, hooking into the waistband of her knickers. Hawke was about to move her legs so he could pull them off, when the dwarf gave her a grin that suggested imp ancestry, and ripped them right down the middle seam. She gasped, smacking him on the side of the head lightly.  
“Sodding dwarf!”  
“Fake ginger!” He twiddled the edge of her curly, very black, pubic hairs before shredding the remainder of her undergarments with his teeth. And then, she was fully exposed to him. Varric knelt one knee on the floor in front of the table, before going in on his best friend’s sopping wet pussy. Hawke could not contain the low, gravelly moan that escaped her lips as her head fell backward and her eyes closed. Once again, Hawke’s fingers curled into that mass of that golden hair, and this time the leather binding strap fell away completely. Her toes curled in pleasure as Varric’s tongue and fingers worked their magic. Figurative magic, as Hawke noticed tendrils of flame flickering about her hands, and had to put them out before Varric’s hair caught fire.  
But oh that tongue, up and over it slicked, from her clit and down to the very very edge of her opening, but not in, oh never in. He was teasing her. She was about to open her mouth to say something when Varric slipped a finger inside her. Again, her groan was not to be contained, and she swore she felt him chuckle. His mouth sucked ever-so-gently, while that finger slipped in and out of her, curling upward to feel the inside of her walls. Her voice, usually rife with sarcasm, was sincere, almost tender as she moaned “Ohhh Varric.”  
This set something afire in the dwarf, a need he had to meet right. Fucking. Now. He pulled his mouth from her, seeing her before him, so ready for him. If he hadn’t been hard before, he was now almost painfully so. Her blue eyes watched him greedily, and though Varric had certainly been with his fair share of women, none had ever lived up to their names in ways that made him feel quite so much like prey. He struggled out of his duster, his tunic, Maker why am I wearing so many clothes?, his boots, and finally his pants. Varric had to admit, he was a little self-conscious. It had been a good long while since he had been with anyone, let alone a human woman.  
Hawke grinned at him as he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his skivvies, and all of that self-consciousness washed away. Off they came, and Hawke’s eyebrows shot upward. Varric’s grin was full of cockiness, not to put too fine a point on it, and he ran his hands up her muscular thighs as he said “I bet you didn’t realize that dwarves are often just as well, if not better endowed than humans.” His thumbs grazed over her hips, reaching hands around to hold her by the hipbones.  
Hawke’s eyes roved the full length of him, greedily ogling his stiff and ready cock. Her gaze met his, and her grin widened as she tucked her feet behind his back once more, pulling him to her. His tip met the wetness of her folds, where he gently teased his way inside, up and down until the pulsating head of his cock was coated in her fluids. Their breathing was matched and pulses quickened as he soooo slowly pushed his way inside her. It took all of his strength not to just slam it into her wetness again and again, but no, this was going to last.  
Hakwe’s head lolled back again as she moaned his name. Her legs tightened around his waist as he slid out of her and teased her opening with the head of his cock. He drew lazy circles around her pussy, grinning with impudence. Hawke’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at him. Suddenly, her legs fully encircled his waist, and she pulled him all the way inside her with one thrust.  
“Ohhhh Andraste’s sweet tits you’re gonna be the death of me, woman.” But as per her request, Varric grasped Hawke’s hips firmly and thrust into her again. Short, sharp thrusts that elicited sharp, fast groans, building to longer, harder thrusts. Over and over, his throbbing cock slammed into her, even as Varric’s talented thumb rubbed her clit like he was playing the lute. Hawke could feel herself building, that tension in need of release, waiting to explode in her lower abdomen. With one hand propping herself up on the table, she reached the other out to grasp Varric by the back of the neck, pulling him to her in a fierce kiss. He nipped at her lip, and Hawke’s world exploded in a shower of colors as she came hard around him.  
Maker preserve him, Varric could withstand it no longer. It had been too long, and she had him so turned on by the time they even got to this point. He started to pull out and spill his seed elsewhere, but Hawke kept those well-formed legs locked around his waist. Panting, she grinned and breathed “Mage, remember?” Oh gods the glories of fucking a mage, Varric came so hard he thought he might pass out, shouting her name at the very end, almost like closing a prayer.  
Hawke lay back on the table, her head supported by the stone centerpiece, and Varric slumped forward to lie his head on her chest. Both of them were covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, and breathed heavily. They lay like that in silence for a moment, before Hawke unlocked her legs and Varric stood, stretching his taut arms over his head.  
“Damn, Hawke, you do get results. How long do you bet it takes Isabela to notice?” He asked Hawke, who reached for her towel from earlier to clean up.  
“Oh I’d be amazed if she didn’t hear that from downstairs.” She grinned at him. Then her face drew into one of shock. “Holy shit that just happened. Also, I am starving, can we eat?”  
“Absolutely, Kitten. And...possibly discuss what the fuck we do now.”  
Hawke shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, that was a long time coming.” Her impish smile returned with the pun, and Varric laughed, shaking his head and wondering what the fuck he’d just gotten himself into.


End file.
